For weeks, the buzz of Super Bowl Sunday has filled the air. Personally, I don’t know the stats or the players (except Stephon Diggs for the obvious reason). I’m just here for the food, the commercials, and the halftime show. Honestly, I’m watching the Super Bowl on mute, while I’m listening to Kennedy Ryan’s Can’t Get Enough on Audible, letting the words fill the spaces between the crowd noise and the clock ticking down.
But as the game plays on, I see something familiar.
A fight for a win.
Halfway through, one team isn’t even on the scoreboard yet… and it hits close to home. For me, lately, life feels less like a championship run and more like being down in one of the most important games—exhausted, bracing for impact, and wondering how the year has already become so heavy after only 39 days.
For many women, this feeling isn’t new. We know what it’s like to keep pushing even when the body is tired, the spirit is worn, and the scoreboard doesn’t reflect how hard we’ve been playing. We’ve learned how to play offense and defense at the same damn time. To anticipate hits. To recover quickly. To stay in formation no matter what’s happening off the field.
Playing Hurt
Much like football, life celebrates resilience… the ability to play through pain. But there’s a difference between strength and survival. Black women have long been praised for “handling it,” for being dependable, for showing up no matter what. What’s often left out of that narrative is the cost.
Smiling through burnout doesn’t mean you’re unbreakable—it means you’ve been carrying more than your share.
Producing through grief.
Leading while quietly unraveling.
Just because we’re still standing doesn’t mean we’re not hurt. And feeling depleted doesn’t mean we’re losing, it means we’ve been carrying too much for too long.
Listening to Kennedy Ryan’s Can’t Get Enough while muted from the chaos of the game, I’m reminded that even the strongest among us need to acknowledge desire, need, and care for ourselves.
When the Playbook Stops Working
At some point, the strategies that once got us wins stop working. The plays we’ve prepared… aren’t working either. Hustle feels heavier. Motivation feels forced. The grind that once felt empowering now feels draining.
That doesn’t mean we’ve failed. It means the season has changed. Even the best teams adjust when fatigue sets in. Growth sometimes looks like admitting the old way isn’t sustainable anymore.
Timeouts are strategic, not selfish.
They’re moments to breathe, reassess, and decide what’s actually worth running for.
Call a Timeout, Sis
It’s time to call a timeout, sis. And, understand it may look different for everyone.
It might look like rest without explanation.
Like saying no without guilt.
Like choosing ease over urgency.
For Black women especially, rest is radical. Not because we don’t deserve it, but because we’ve been taught to earn it. The truth is, you don’t need to be broken to pause. Being tired is reason enough.
Home Stretch Faith
The home stretch is where everything tightens—the clock, the pressure, the expectations. But it’s also where intention matters most. You don’t have to give everything you have left to prove you’re worthy of winning.
Some victories are quiet. Some are internal.
Listen sis. If you’re feeling defeated here me out: Defeat isn’t failure. It’s fatigue. This isn’t the end. It’s a signal for recovery.
You don’t have to play hurt to be powerful. Your pause, your rest, your recovery is the REAL championship. And sometimes you just need someone to come along and remind you to honor your own needs.
That’s why I’m here.
The next play you need to call chooses you. It puts you first, unapologetically. And if you need to, call a timeout, sis.
#keepstruttin